


maybe, love

by moonbend (newlovecassette)



Category: SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, rated m for light smut at the end !, takes place over superm's group activities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newlovecassette/pseuds/moonbend
Summary: Taeyong doesn't get crushes. That is, until Baekhyun comes along.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 34
Kudos: 383





	maybe, love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [privebaek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/privebaek/gifts).



> thank you so much to laur for requesting this fic and i hope it satisfies what you were looking for!  
> this was my first time writing baekyong, hopefully there will be more in the future ...... !!  
> thanks for reading <3

Taeyong has never really considered himself someone that gets _crushes._

It’s never been something that interests him, he supposes. 

The other members tell him about their past crushes, from school, or on the pretty female trainees that wave to them in the halls, and Taeyong nods and smiles. He gets it—girls are pretty. There’s something nice about looking at a girl, of course—he likes their soft eyes, the shape of their lips. 

But a crush is never something he’s had. The idea of a relationship is daunting, not something he can picture himself in, or really something he could fit into his career. So, he slides it onto the backburner. He’s fine, he thinks. He doesn’t care too much about it.

Love is a diluted concept in an industry like this, anyway.

—

Then comes Baekhyun. 

Taeyong has met Baekhyun a couple of times before. He’s his hyung, his senior, someone he _admires._ Baekhyun has a voice like honey, the kind of talent people work years to perfect. When he looks at Baekhyun, he sees something unattainable, far off, untouchable. A goal to reach, not an equal. 

Baekhyun smiles at him with every ounce of friendliness, shakes his hand, maybe even makes a light joke when they pass each other in the hallway. But he’s not a _friend._ He’s a coworker, maybe. In Taeyong’s mind—it’s probably going to be like this for a long time. He’s accepted that as the normal, doesn’t even think of it, really.

But, of course—being an idol has never meant anything ever stays _normal._

So _of course,_ because the world seems to work in bizarre ways, Taeyong ends up in a group with Baekhyun. SuperM is the company’s latest attempt at broadening their horizons. When Taeyong reads the list of who else is participating, the idea of working with his seniors is a little daunting. The names each carry some sort of weight. _Kai. Taemin._ And of course, _Baekhyun._

When he first meets Baekhyun as a _group member_ he ends up with a sweaty hand in Baekhyun’s, staring right into his softening eyes. Taeyong’s never really liked handshakes, but there’s something about the way that Baekhyun’s slender fingers wrap around Taeyong’s hand that make him feel a little bit like he doesn’t want to let go. 

“Nice to work with you, Taeyong,” Baekhyun says, and he smiles in that way that looks like he’s hiding something. 

“You too,” Taeyong says quietly. Baekhyun’s hands are soft, and up close, even in casual wear, he still looks the image of a perfect, professional idol.  
  
Later, during a meeting, Taeyong catches Baekhyun staring at him from across the room. Baekhyun’s studying him, like he’s some foreign creature, focused, but when he catches Taeyong’s eye, his lips curl into a slow little smile. Suddenly, Taeyong’s the one who feels embarrassed, and he looks down at his lap, ashamed. 

Something in his bones tells him Baekhyun’s going to be a _problem._ He’s not sure how, he just knows he is. 

—

“Do you play games?” 

Taeyong looks up from his phone. Baekhyun’s standing over him, looking down at his screen, where Taeyong’s been busy playing a round of PUBG before they get back to practice. Right as he looks up, another player snipes him from afar, and his character falls dead.

“I…” Taeyong stutters on his words, unsure. “Yeah. Sure. I’m not really… good at them, though.” 

Baekhyun slides down the wall to sit next to him on the floor. They’re on a break right now. Across the room, Taeyong can see Lucas and Mark trying to intricately craft a new secret handshake, and Ten, Kai, and Taemin running over the choreography one more time. Is that why Baekhyun’s talking to him? Because everyone else is busy? He’s unsure. 

“I play PUBG too, you know,” Baekhyun says. “Sorry for messing up your game.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Taeyong says nervously. “I’m not very good at it, anyway.” 

“Well then.” Baekhyun uncaps his water, taking a languid sip. “Perhaps we should play sometime, then.” 

“Oh.” Taeyong stares at Baekhyun, surprised. “You want to… with me?” 

Baekhyun chuckles. “Yeah I do. What are you so surprised for? You’re a nice boy, Taeyong. And you’re cute. Plus, it’s good for us to get to know each other, isn’t it?” 

_You’re cute._

Taeyong’s brain flatlines, and Baekhyun just gives him a reassuring smile, like everything’s normal. It should be normal, really, but something sort of burns in Taeyong, deep in his chest, like there’s flames licking at his ribcage. 

Baekhyun thinks he’s _cute._

He blinks. “Y-yeah. I’d um, I’d really like to play with you, hyung.” He smiles, all shyly, and Baekhyun laughs airly, without a care in the world. 

Taeyong is so, so, _screwed._

—

“Baekhyun seems to really like you,” Mark remarks offhandedly one day, on the way home from practice. 

Taeyong can’t help the strange, reddening heat that crawls across his face. “He does?” He fiddles with the strap of his seatbelt, feeling restless. It’s hard for him not to be, every time someone brings up Baekhyun. He’s not sure why, really. 

“He’s always staring at you,” Mark says with a shrug. “Y’know. Like a hawk. Watching for prey, but in like… a nice way. He has that _look_ in his eyes.” 

Taeyong doesn’t really know what Mark means, but at the same time, it summons that strange sensation in his chest again, like he’s smoldering inside. It is true, that Baekhyun likes him. Some part of him knows this, because Baekhyun always takes his time to talk to Taeyong, to watch out for him. He just assumed that maybe it was because Taeyong’s been feeling noticeably out of his element. Mark’s been looking out for him more, Ten too—but it’s hard to deny there’s something particularly _special_ about the attention Baekhyun pays to Taeyong, in specific. Earlier, at practice today, Baekhyun had found Taeyong in the hallway, pestered him about if he’d eaten yet. When they game together, he always asks Taeyong if he’s eaten over voice chat. It’s not like he asks anyone else those questions, or, Taeyong’s just not seeing it. And Baekhyun always has so many _questions._

_Do you write music? Can I listen? What’s your favorite food? What’s the color you like the best? Do you like my voice? Do you practice dancing a lot? Wow, your skin is so soft. How does it get that way? Am I your favorite hyung? Want to get lunch with me?_

Baekhyun’s persistent, constantly wanting to know more about Taeyong, _only_ Taeyong, and it’s going to make him a little crazy. 

Taeyong blinks back to reality. “I figured he’s just being a good senior,” he says. The blush is spreading to the tips of his ears. 

Mark stares at Taeyong, as if he’s trying to read into the expression on his face. “Do _you_ like him?” he asks, testing. 

Taeyong stares at his feet, trying not to look into Mark’s eyes. “Yeah, I mean, of course I do.”

“But like…” Mark trails off. “Nevermind.” 

Taeyong looks at him, confused, and Mark just smiles, though it’s really more of a grimace, like he pities Taeyong in some way. 

—

Baekhyun is _everywhere._ It’s starting to follow Taeyong, like some goddamn curse. If he’s not there physically, wrapping his arms around Taeyong’s shoulders, murmuring something teasing under his breath—he’s there, in Taeyong’s mind. It’s like someone else scooped out every other possible thought from his brain and replaced it with _Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun._

Baekhyun’s handsome: sharp jawline, delicate doll-like hands, and pouty lips. His voice, whether he’s singing, or just talking, is so entrancing, makes Taeyong feel like he’s drowning. It’s not like he didn’t know Baekhyun was all these things—beautiful, talented, _perfect_ —but something about them feels so suddenly tangible, always resting in the back of Taeyong’s mind. It’s impossible, really. There’s no possible way he can do _this,_ this group, if he’s expected to work next to _Baekhyun_ of all people. 

Taeyong tries his very best to push it all away. He slides it to the back of his mind, tries to pretend everything is normal. He’s just nervous around Baekhyun because Baekhyun’s his leader, now, the person he looks up to and respects. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that. Plus, he has other things to focus on, anyway. They’re _debuting._

Taeyong crashes through the debut like a whirlwind. America is loud and bright and everything is constantly busy. He doesn’t have to think about anything, or what Baekhyun means when he sits next to him in the van, or tucks his shirt back in for him backstage, or gives him another one of his strange smiles from across the room. 

“Taeyong,” Baekhyun says one night, sitting in the living room after dinner, “I’m glad we got to work together.” 

Baekhyun’s sitting on the couch, and Taeyong’s just walking by, about to head to his room, but he stops, turning around. He lets out that little laugh, the one he can’t help letting out sometimes, and scratches the back of his head. 

“I, uh, I feel the same way.”

“Come,” Baekhyun says, and he pats the space on the couch next to him. Tucking his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, Taeyong plops down on the couch, trying to leave an ample amount of coworker-appropriate space in between them. Baekhyun, of course, because he’s Baekhyun, after all, chooses to scoot over until their thighs are touching. He swings an arm over Taeyong’s shoulder, and Taeyong can feel his heartbeat picking up in his chest. 

“Did you want to talk about something…?” Taeyong asks, his fingers twisting together in the pocket of his hoodie. 

“I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re around. I just… appreciate you, Taeyong.” Baekhyun turns to him, and he feels so impossibly close, like Taeyong could map each and every one of the moles on his face. “You’re handsome, and you’re so good at everything you do. I like that in a person. I just think people should tell you more.” Taeyong notices Baekhyun’s cheeks are a little red, and he wonders if it’s maybe just because he had a glass of wine too many at dinner. Considering his current emotional openness, it seems highly possible. 

“Are you drunk, hyung?” Taeyong asks, with another little laugh.

“Just a bit tipsy,” Baekhyun remarks, making a little pinching motion with his fingertips. “What? I can’t tell you that I love you?” 

_Love you,_ Taeyong thinks. _That’s a strong word choice._

“No, no. I feel the same way about you. You’re also handsome. And good at everything.” Tentatively, Taeyong places a hand on Baekhyun’s thigh, squeezing reassuringly.

“You’re so sweet, Taeyong. You’re my _favorite,_ ” Baekhyun says, and he lays his head on Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong laughs again, because sometimes it’s really all he can do, and pats Baekhyun’s leg. 

That burning sensation in his chest only gets stronger. Like the flames are curling their way up to his throat, now. He swallows, and shoves it to the back of his mind yet again. 

—

It’s on tour when Taeyong realizes that Baekhyun might be a real, proper problem. 

When Taeyong heads onstage for his solo performance the first night, Baekhyun taps him on the shoulder. “I’ll be watching,” he says, like it’s nothing. (Arguably, it is nothing. They all watch each other perform. But this feels different.) 

Now, every performance, it’s like Taeyong can _feel_ Baekhyun’s eyes on him. Burning into his back, a reminder of everything that’s been turning in his head lately. When Taeyong thinks of Baekhyun, his head feels like a washing machine on an endless spin cycle, trapped in a toss and turn of never ending thoughts about Baekhyun, Baekhyun only. When he knows Baekhyun’s watching, everything becomes harder, like each step he takes onstage could be the wrong one that sends him tumbling down. It’s terrifying. 

Backstage, Baekhyun will hug him, tell him he did well, wrap his fingers around Taeyong’s wrist and play with his jewelry. He rubs his thumb against the tattoo on the underside of Taeyong’s arm. 

“How many tattoos do you have?” he’ll ask, and Taeyong wants to melt into a little puddle of nothing on the floor. Why is it that when he looks Baekhyun in the eyes, he feels like his entire world is rearranging itself, piece by piece? 

“Taeyong,” Mark says carefully, one day when they’re alone in their hotel room, “You have a crush.” 

Taeyong laughs. “No I don’t. I don’t _get_ crushes, remember?” He turns the volume down on whatever cooking show Mark was watching, and crosses his arms. “And not… not on boys. I'm not… you know.”

“Yeah,” Mark says noncommittally. “Sure. I’m just saying, Taeyong, you seem to like him. _A lot._ Jongin and Taemin are your seniors, too, but you don’t have the relationship with them that you have with Baekhyun.” 

“We’re just close,” Taeyong says, quietly, and he gazes at the plaster on the hotel room ceiling to avoid looking at Mark. He folds his fingers across his chest, and he can feel his heart thumping under his palms, a subtle reminder that really, he’s lying to himself. 

The truth is that Mark’s probably right. Taeyong’s been thinking for so long, about how to properly refer to his feelings surrounding Baekhyun, and he’s starting to realize that maybe the only word that works is _crush._ Crush sounds so silly, so juvenile, like Taeyong’s some blushing schoolgirl, but how else is he supposed to put it when even making eye contact with Baekhyun makes his heart tumble in his chest?

Taeyong’s never thought of himself as gay, either. Granted, maybe it wasn’t really ever presented as an option to him, but he didn’t think about it. Baekhyun’s just a wrench in everything Taeyong thought was real, stable—his nonexistent love life, his knowledge of who he is as a _person,_ his entire outlook on the world. It’s a problem, a real problem, and no matter how many times he attempts to crumple it up into a little ball and toss it away, it doesn’t seem to want to leave his head. He knows the stress is showing—it’s part of why Mark sat him down to talk in the first place. 

Perhaps the best solution is to simply avoid the problem, Taeyong ponders. The less time he spends around Baekhyun, the less he has to think about him. 

—

Avoiding someone you’re in the same group as turns out to be a lot harder than Taeyong thought. Baekhyun’s been so baked into every aspect of his daily life these days, that when he has to cut him out of it, it feels nearly impossible. 

“You’re being stupid, you know,” Ten remarks, after watching Taeyong avoid eye contact with Baekhyun for ten painful minutes in the dressing room. “If you have a crush on him, just say you do.”

Taeyong lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know too?” he says, mournfully. 

“Uh-huh,” Ten remarks idly, as if Taeyong having a crush, on another member of their group, isn’t a big deal. (Maybe it actually isn’t, Taeyong thinks. Maybe _he’s_ the one turning this into a bigger deal than it should be.) “Listen. We’re about to have a bit of time apart from each other. Take that time to think. And get over yourself. Stop overthinking everything.” Ten tucks in his shirt, and promptly exits the room, leaving just Taeyong, staring at himself in the mirror. 

And, o _kay,_ maybe avoiding the problem isn’t the best method to fixing this whole mess that’s been occupying Taeyong’s brain for months now, but he’s really not sure what else to do. Confessing to Baekhyun—that’s out of the question. It’s too terrifying, a prospect he can’t even stomach. Even outside the threat of rejection, he’s scared that Baekhyun won’t even look him in the eye again if he tells him. It’s far better to let the feelings sink away, until they just become an ignorable dull ache in Taeyong’s heart. It’s depressing, perhaps, but manageable. Taeyong has always liked things to be manageable. 

So, he pushes on with ignoring Baekhyun as best he can. When they land back in Korea, he does his best to not answer every one of Baekhyun’s calls, to find excuses for why they can’t play games together, to occupy his mind with other things, like making music, or dancing, or practicing, anything, really. 

When they start revving up for the tour again, he sees Baekhyun at practice, and keeps his eyes downcast, his smile faint. Boundaries, he thinks. He has to keep boundaries. The problem is that the idea of ‘boundaries’ are completely foreign to Baekhyun. If anything, Taeyong’s made it _worse_ by restricting himself from Baekhyun, who seems to communicate half the time in touch, fingertips brushing subtly down the small of Taeyong’s back, legs nudging as close to Taeyong’s as he can without practically sitting on his lap. Now, after avoiding it so much, each touch feels ten times as powerful. Baekhyun laces their fingers together playfully as they listen to the choreographer talk, and Taeyong feels like he’s going to collapse on the floor, stomach buzzing with some sort of untameable energy. 

_Just accept it,_ he tries to tell himself. _Accept that Baekhyun isn’t going to feel the same way you do. You’re embarrassing yourself._ He starts to become wary of every movement when he’s around Baekhyun, as if he’s trying to play the role of Not Terribly In Love With Baekhyun At All. Mostly, he just hopes that it isn’t evident on his face, not present in the tiny lipbites he does when listening to Baekhyun talk or the way his cheeks heat up when Baekhyun calls him handsome. But, if Baekhyun notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just carries on as always, with his stupid teasing smiles and his tender touches that all make Taeyong dizzy with affection. 

“You’ve got it bad,” Ten comments one night, when he watches Taeyong stare forlornly at Baekhyun performing onstage. 

“Just a bit,” Taeyong replies, voice forlorn. Baekhyun shines, bathed in blue and pink light, as he sings, looking like an angel that just stepped down from heaven. Taeyong wants to wrap his hand in his, maybe lean forward, perhaps even kiss him—

Yeah, Taeyong has it bad.

—

Taeyong thinks he has it all under control until their last night in L.A. 

Baekhyun’s doing a live—Taeyong knows this, because he passes Taemin in the hallway, and he taps him on the shoulder. 

“Baekhyun’s doing a livestream,” Taemin says. “You should join in.” He gives Taeyong a _look,_ with one of his placid smiles, and Taeyong wonders if even _he_ knows about Taeyong’s… _feelings._

Taeyong nods, a burst of confidence swelling in his chest. Maybe it’s because it’s their last night in the States, for a while, but he feels a strange draw to Baekhyun’s room, an odd determined resolve settling in the pit of his stomach. A live can’t be too hard—Taeyong’s used to putting on a good face for fans, and if there’s a camera pointed at him, it’s easier to pretend nothing’s wrong. 

And that turns out to be true—when he enters Baekhyun’s room, hugs a pillow to his chest, he remembers how _easy_ it can be to talk to Baekhyun. Baekhyun talks like everything is so simple, as if he has confidence in every little thing, and it makes Taeyong forget, for a while, that he’s been trapped in inner turmoil for months now. 

It’s fine, truly, fine, until Baekhyun says something that makes his blood run cold. 

“Taeyong’s always been attracted to me,” Baekhyun says offhandedly, and for a split second, Taeyong feels like he’s been completely submerged underwater. 

Baekhyun _knows._ Baekhyun _knows_ that Taeyong’s attracted to him. He’s briefly terrified that Baekhyun will continue on, exposing more of Taeyong’s secrets to his audience of millions. That he’ll tell _everyone_ about Taeyong’s feelings. 

But, instead, Baekhyun just laughs, like it’s a joke, and so Taeyong laughs too, tries to brush it off as nothing, because it probably is just… nothing. But it leaves something inside him unsettled, a persistent anxiety burning inside him. Does Baekhyun _know?_ It’s a mortifying idea, that Baekhyun could have known this whole time, and had just let Taeyong embarrass himself out of politeness. 

When they go to the airport that night, Taeyong dodges Baekhyun, avoids his eyes. He can’t even _think_ right now—it’s all too terrifyingly real. He wishes he could just be comfortable around Baekhyun, like Mark or Lucas are, but he’s backed himself into a corner at this point. What is he supposed to do? 

He still tells Baekhyun that he’ll miss him, because it’s true, and Baekhyun laughs, says something kind and reassuring about it only being two weeks that mostly passes through Taeyong’s brain, because he’s too busy staring at how Baekhyun’s lips move when he talks. 

He doesn’t pick up Baekhyun’s calls for those next two weeks, and doesn't answer his messages. And it sucks, it really does, because Taeyong hadn’t even realized how dependent he’d become on the dulcet tones of Baekhyun’s voice and the comfort they provided. The worst thing about having feelings for someone is that there’s no _cure._ You just have them, and they refuse to go away, no real solution present for dealing with them, at all. 

Perhaps he’ll just have to live with that. 

—

When they leave for Paris for the final part of tour, Taeyong desperately hopes that Baekhyun’s just forgotten about the entire “attracted to me” ordeal, maybe even forgotten about Taeyong entirely, if he’s lucky. He’s surprised to find that after they board the plane—Baekhyun ignores him back, engrossing himself in conversations with the other members and leaving Taeyong be. Taeyong should feel satisfied, his wish granted, but he just feels empty. 

Baekhyun barely speaks to him until they arrive at the hotel to unpack their things. Lucas and Ten want to go off and see the Eiffel Tower, and they dip pretty quickly, leaving their luggage with a manager. The other members disappear to their respective rooms, and when Taeyong turns to leave the hotel lobby, Baekhyun wraps a hand around his wrist. 

“You and I,” Baekhyun says, voice steady. “We need to talk.” 

“W-we do?” Taeyong says, already aware that his face is heating up again, like it always manages to. He fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, trying his best to keep his gaze into Baekhyun’s eyes steady. 

“Come to my room when you’re done unpacking.” Baekhyun squeezes his arm, and smiles without showing any teeth. For the first time, _he_ looks nervous. Strangely, that gives Taeyong a vague sense of hope. 

Once Taeyong makes it to his room, he quickly tosses his suitcase on his bed, and changes out of his airport clothes into something a little more presentable, pulling a v-neck shirt over his head. It feels, bizarrely, like he’s getting ready for a date. He checks himself in the mirror, running a hand through his bangs, preparing himself for the terrifying reality of confrontation, and even worse, rejection.

 _You’ve got this,_ he mouths to his reflection. Anxiety crawling up his spine, he walks to Baekhyun’s room, and knocks on the door, feeling how his fingers shake. 

“Hello?” Taeyong says, weakly.

The door swings open, and Baekhyun is standing there, looking slightly frazzled. “Hello,” he says. His hair is more of a brown color now, and it suits him. Even after hours and hours of flying, he still looks handsome. Baekhyun’s an enigma like that—perpetually beautiful without even trying.

“I… Can I come in?” 

Baekhyun nods, and gestures for Taeyong to walk into his room. It looks untouched. The only thing that’s unpacked is Baekhyun’s gaming laptop, sitting on the dresser, which is so blatantly _Baekhyun_ of him that it makes Taeyong stifle a laugh. 

Baekhyun gently shuts the door behind him, and makes a face, like he’s thinking really hard about what to say next. Taeyong can feel his own hands shaking, and he tries to calm the vigorous pounding of his own heart desperately, unsure of what to do next. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Baekhyun says clearly, and he looks right at Taeyong, who’s taken a tentative seat on the bed. 

As if on instinct, Taeyong shrinks back, eyes widening, a lump already forming steadily in his throat. “H...Have I?” Taeyong says, as noncommittally as possible. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Baekhyun rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and stares at the floor grimly. “I just want to know _why._ ”

Taeyong finds himself digging his fingers into the sheets of Baekhyun’s bed, kicking his feet back and forth. There’s a million things he could say right now, a million excuses he could make, but they all suddenly feel pointless. He’s tired of fighting it. 

“I like you,” he says plainly.

Baekhyun chokes out a stunned laugh, expression perplexed. “ _What?_ ” 

“I like you,” Taeyong repeats. “I like you, hyung. Not in a friend way. I have _feelings_ for you.” Taeyong sways back and forth, as if the perpetual movement of his body will calm him down somehow. “Over these past couple months, getting closer to you and all, I’ve started developing this weird attraction towards you, and I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want you to hate me. I started ignoring you because I thought it would be easier for the both of us, and I could get over it, and stop dealing with these stupid feelings. Sorry. It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to scare you.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, and Taeyong worries. He’s scared him, terrified him, and now Baekhyun will never want to associate with him again—

“Oh, thank God,” Baekhyun says. 

It’s Taeyong’s turn to let out a stunned laugh, and he looks up at Baekhyun. “Sorry, what?” 

Baekhyun suddenly rushes forward, tackling Taeyong in a hug so hard that he falls back against the bed. Taeyong, still not quite sure what’s going on, nervously wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s back. 

“I thought I was just imagining it,” Baekhyun says mournfully, into Taeyong’s shoulder. “I thought it was just me.” He lifts his head up, and looks down at Taeyong. They’re now ridiculously close, practically nose to nose, and if Baekhyun couldn’t sense how fast Taeyong’s heart was beating before, he certainly should be able to now. 

Taeyong blinks up at Baekhyun, distracted by how long and pretty his eyelashes are and how fucking _close_ his lips are to his. “What do you mean?” 

“Have you not noticed me flirting with you? Non-stop? For the past six months?” 

“You were _flirting_ ?” Taeyong says, and suddenly, everything falls into place. The compliments, the touchiness, the endless desire to know more about Taeyong and spend as much time with him as possible. Baekhyun _likes_ Taeyong. “Oh my God,” Taeyong says aloud. “You like me. Not as friends.”

Baekhyun unwraps his arms from Taeyong, still straddling him but no longer forcing them to be face-to-face. “Yeah, dumbass, I do. I thought _you_ were the one that hated me, with all your dodginess around me. I thought you could… tell. How I felt about you. And it made you feel weird.” 

Taeyong’s face breaks into a smile, a real, genuine one, and laughs again, breathless. “I thought you could tell I liked you, or something. I thought you’d never feel the same way.” Bravely, his hand finds Baekhyun’s, a sense of courage filling him as he laces their fingers together. He feels so light, like a weight’s been lifted off his chest. _Free._ He feels free. 

Baekhyun lets out a sigh of relief, and he collapses into Taeyong’s chest, laughing to himself like he can’t even be sure this is real. Taeyong can’t, either, but he’ll treasure it for as long as he can. Baekhyun turns his head to the side, and looks up at Taeyong. 

“I’ve got a stupid question,” he says. “Can I kiss you?” 

Taeyong doesn’t feel like there’s flames burning inside of him anymore—it’s more like a rush of wind, a beam of warm sunlight, that’s dancing in his stomach. “ _Please,_ ” he practically pleads. Baekhyun sits up, just to properly grab onto Taeyong’s cheeks and dip down to kiss him. 

The moment their lips touch—Taeyong doesn’t want to be dramatic, but—it feels _euphoric._ Like his entire life, he’s been waiting for this one singular moment, for his lips to meet Baekhyun’s. They’re just as soft as Taeyong had imagined in all his late-night fantasies, and he doesn’t want to ever stop. He sits up a little, so he can push Baekhyun up and tangle a hand in his hair, breathe in how Baekhyun smells like expensive cologne and hotel shampoo. 

Baekhyun breaks apart from him and Taeyong whines on instinct, already feeling desperate for more. “Don’t stop,” he says. “I’ve been wanting this for so long, don’t stop, please.” It makes Baekhyun laugh again, the kind that makes his eyes turn into little crescents. 

“I should have known you’d be needy,” Baekhyun says, and he backs up against the headboard, gesturing for Taeyong to crawl on top of his lap. Taeyong follows easily, and Baekhyun runs hands down the side of his chest, feels his waist through the material of his shirt, and breathes in, smiling pleasantly. “I’m so lucky,” he says, and he grabs onto Taeyong’s chin, guiding him into another kiss. This time, there’s more tongue, slipping past Taeyong’s lips, and Taeyong finds he doesn’t mind it at all. He finds he really likes this—being guided by Baekhyun, taken care of. 

Taeyong’s kissed some people in his days, but he’s pretty certain Baekhyun’s the best of them all. It’s almost addicting, the way their lips lock together so easily, how Baekhyun’s tongue skids along the roof of his mouth and how his hand rubs soft circles into Taeyong’s side. 

There’s one very small problem, though, and that’s Taeyong’s growing hard-on which is seconds from poking right into Baekhyun’s stomach. It’s hard to help—Taeyong’s felt awful pent up these past few months, and the way that Baekhyun licks into his mouth, kisses him with passion, his teeth pulling on Taeyong’s bottom lip, could rile any man up a little. 

“Hyung,” Taeyong says against Baekhyun’s lips, face feeling hot. 

Baekhyun instantly stops, pulling his mouth back and steadying his hands on Taeyong’s waist. “What is it? Do you want to stop? I don’t want to go too far if you don’t want to.” 

“No, I mean…” Taeyong coughs into his hand. “It’s just that I…” 

Baekhyun looks down, right between Taeyong’s legs, and his eyes meet the obvious bulge straining against Taeyong’s pants. “Oh,” he says, but he doesn’t look upset. More amused than anything. 

“I can go… Then we can talk later?” Taeyong squeaks, feeling humiliated. 

“Actually,” Baekhyun says, and he looks back up at Taeyong, biting his lip. “I can help you out, if you want. No pressure.” 

Taeyong almost gags on his own spit. “R-really? It’s not too… fast for you?"

“I work in the entertainment industry, Taeyong. Nothing’s too fast for me.” Baekhyun grins cheekily, and licks his lips. 

“Okay,” Taeyong nods, breathing shaking with anticipation. “If you’re comfortable with it.” 

“It’s just a handjob,” Baekhyun says, and he grabs onto Taeyong’s zipper, tugging it down. “Not too hard for me.” He spits into the palm of his other hand, pushing Taeyong’s pants and underwear down. 

When he wraps his hand around Taeyong’s half-hard length, Taeyong instantly shivers, and collapses forward, resting his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder. He can’t believe it—just an hour ago, he was terrified Baekhyun despised him, and yet, here he is, in Baekhyun’s lap with his hand on his dick. 

It feels like Taeyong hasn’t been touched in a million years. Baekhyun’s skin is so soft, and just the feeling of those slender fingers—the ones Taeyong used to dream about in the worst of his fantasies—churns a burning pleasure in his gut. He lets out a pitiful whimper into Baekhyun’s shoulder, rutting forward into his hand. 

“I was right,” Baekhyun says. “You’re so needy.” He tightens his hand, twisting his wrist upwards.

“Sorry,” Taeyong pants.

“Don’t apologize,” Baekhyun replies. His voice is lower, more sultry, dripping with a sexual energy Taeyong’s never really heard from him before. “I love it.” 

Taeyong just moans desperately, trying not to full-on rock into Baekhyun’s hand. Baekhyun drags his thumb over the head of his cock, and it makes Taeyong see stars a little—he’s not sure if that’s because he hasn’t been touched in so long, or if it’s because it’s Baekhyun touching him. 

“I love seeing you desperate like this,” Baekhyun says. “You’re so pretty, Taeyong. So perfect for me.” There’s something about Taeyong’s own name on Baekhyun’s tongue, the compliments that slide out of his lips, that leave Taeyong feeling like he’s floating. Just him and Baekhyun, no one else to think about. 

Taeyong shakily lifts his head, and he presses his mouth to Baekhyun’s in a janky kiss. Baekhyun hums, pleased, jerking off Taeyong faster as their lips smash together. Taeyong moans into his mouth, unable to control himself, because it feels so good—like he’s drowning in everything Baekhyun is. He’s never had a fucking _handjob_ make him feel so delirious, but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes. 

It’s over all too fast—he can feel his orgasm creeping up his spine as Baekhyun goes faster and faster, murmuring encouraging words against his skin. “M’gonna come,” he says, voice straining as he grinds his teeth together. 

“Go on then. Come. You’ve been good,” Baekhyun replies, and he uses his free hand to stroke through Taeyong’s hair, kissing him slow and sweet. All of a sudden, Taeyong shakes, body tensing, and he comes, suddenly, so hard his toes curl and his cheeks go fuzzy. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, realizing he probably just came all over Baekhyun’s hand. He pulls back, humiliated that he just let Baekhyun jack him off like he was some sort of horny teenager, but Baekhyun just looks pleased. “Sorry,” he says, a word he finds himself using more than is probably necessary. 

Baekhyun just shrugs, grabbing a tissue and using it to wipe his hand off. “I don’t care,” he says. “That was fun. You make cute noises,” he adds, and Taeyong grins sheepishly. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies, heart still pounding in his chest as he catches his breath. “Thank you.” He looks at Baekhyun, and raises an eyebrow. “Do you need…?”

“No, I’m fine,” Baekhyun says. “Just let me take care of you this once. Let’s talk.” He grabs onto Taeyong’s wrist, and pulls him back towards his body. 

“Talk about what?” Taeyong bites his lip, suddenly nervous again. 

“That I like you,” Baekhyun says. “And that I want this to be a… thing. I want to try this thing out between us. I want to take you on a real, proper date.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows shoot up, and his heart skips in his chest. “I—Really?” 

“I like you, idiot. I just gave you a handjob. Trust me, I don’t hand those out to just anyone. I want to make _us_ a thing.”

“A thing,” Taeyong repeats, and he breaks into a little smile. “Okay. Let’s be a _thing._ ” 

Baekhyun wraps his arms around Taeyong’s waist again, and he presses a kiss into Taeyong’s neck. “I think I might be the luckiest man in the world that you like me back.” 

Taeyong giggles, and he wraps his arms around Baekhyun in return. “I think that title belongs to me.”

For that little moment, right there in Baekhyun’s arms, Taeyong realizes he was wrong. Baekhyun was never the problem. He was the _solution_. He smiles to himself, tracing a finger up the back of Baekhyun’s neck, finally feeling at peace. 


End file.
